The wizard had one very active little demon, who was always bothering his master to give him something to do. First Michael commanded him to put a barrier across the Tweed at Kelso, thinking to keep him quiet for at least a week; it was done in a single night, and again the demon demanded work. Then Michael set him to divide Eildon into three; this also was done in a night, and again the demon came clamouring for employment. So in despair the wizard ordered him to make ropes out of sea-sand! This, of course, is impossible, as the sand will not hold together. But if you go down to the shore on the south-east coast of Scotland on a dark and stormy night, you can still hear what sounds like the demon moaning and groaning over his impossible task; and there is certainly a barrier across the Tweed at Kelso, and the Eildon Hill is certainly divided into three! So you may believe as much as you please of this story.
Another tale that is told of the magic powers of this famous man relates that he was once chosen to go as ambassador from the King of Scotland to the King of France on urgent business. Instead of going, as is usual in such cases, with a number of followers, he conjured up a demon shaped like a huge black horse, and rode away over the sea. When half-way across the North Sea the horse said to his rider:—
"What do the old women of Scotland say at bed-time?" Had the magician fallen into the trap and named a prayer, the demon would have disappeared and the wizard would have been drowned! But Michael Scott merely commanded his steed to go on quickly and not to talk. Very soon he came to Paris, tied his horse to the gate of the French king's palace, and boldly entered and stated his business. The French king sneered at an ambassador who was not followed by a train of knights, and began at once to refuse all he asked. "Wait a moment, your Majesty," said Michael, "till you have seen my horse stamp three times."
At the first stamp the ground so shook that every steeple in Paris rocked, making all the bells ring loudly; at the second stamp the king heard behind him a loud crash that made him leap three feet in the air; looking round, he saw that three of the towers of his palace had fallen; the horse raised his foot to stamp a third time, but the king was so terrified that he shouted hastily that he would grant all that Michael asked if only he would keep his horse from stamping!
Whether this tale is true or not, Michael Scott was certainly one of the ambassadors sent to bring back the Maid of Norway to Scotland on the death of King Alexander III. He wrote many learned books, and possessed many others; and they say that when he was buried at Melrose many of these same magic books were buried with him.
To this romantic district of the Eildons belonged True Thomas, Thomas the Rhymer, or Thomas of Ercildoune, as he was variously called, who was held in awe by Border-folks as a prophet. The ruins of his tower are still shown by the pretty river Leader, just about two miles above the spot where it joins the Tweed. The Rhymer seems to have died a few years before 1300; but despite the passing of six centuries he is still remembered. The story of how he gained his prophetic powers is quite worth hearing, whether we believe it or not.
The tale goes that Thomas was on Huntlie bank, near the Eildon Hills, when he saw a wonderful lady approaching him. She was dressed in grass-green silk, with a mantle of fine velvet, and the noble horse on which she rode had silver bells in its mane. Thomas was so surprised at this remarkable sight that when the lady came near he dropped on his knee and pulled off his cap, and cried out, reverently, that she must be the Queen of Heaven. But she answered that she was Queen of fair Elfland, and dared him, with a witching glance, to kiss her lips. The bold and gallant Thomas did not need a second invitation, and promptly kissed the fairy, when she seized upon him and fled away with him swifter than the wind.
Soon all living land was left behind, and they came to a wild place where three roads met. One was a narrow path, beset with thorns and briers; and this the fairy said was the road of righteousness, which very few people ever troubled to find. Another was a broad and attractive road, which was the way of sinners; whilst the third, a pretty winding road, led to Elfland, and thither they went together.
Soon there was neither sun nor moon to lighten the way, and Thomas and his companion waded through rivers above the knee. The sea moaned and roared in the dread darkness, and Thomas somehow found that they waded oft through streams of red blood—blood that had been shed on earth. Then they came to a beautiful garden, and the Elfland queen gave Thomas an apple to eat, saying:—
"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; it will give thee the tongue that can never lie." Poor Thomas turned pale at the thought of such a gift. "Let my tongue be my own!" he pleaded; "how shall I buy or sell in any market, flatter a prince, or compliment a lady, if you give me such a tongue!"